Spotlight on Criminal Justice
The gauntlet of reentry
The gauntlet of reentry
It hasn’t been easy for Ellis. Although he is married, his wife lives in Illinois and Ellis is on paper here in Wisconsin. What he has faced since he left prison is a
gauntlet that has tested his desires, his discipline and his faith. One little slip up and Ellis could be headed back to prison.
One thing Ellis had going for him was his determination to get out of jail for good. “I started planning the day they put me on the bus to take me to prison for
what I was going to do when I came home,” Ellis said in an interview over coffee. “I knew the jig was up. There wasn’t any paying of bonds; there weren’t any
furloughs. I was going to do that time. And then the ‘truth-in-sentencing’ had taken effect, so there wasn’t any early parole. I knew I wasn’t going to get out on
parole. The parole board wasn’t letting anyone out.”
When Ellis was released, he had $440 in his pocket and lived in a hotel for most of the first 30 days that he was out, compliments of the state of Wisconsin.
But Ellis had been placed in a hotel near some influences that could drag him right back to prison. “When I came home, they put me in the Expo Hotel,” Ellis
said. “They wouldn’t let me have anyone in and they wouldn’t let me make phone calls. As soon as the guy got me situated, he left me and said ‘You’re on your
own.’ And as soon as he left, someone knocked on the door trying to get in. It was a female, but I didn’t open the door. And the next day, I went to call my wife. I
had to walk through the Expo Hotel to the Villager Mall. I got solicited about three times, once by a hooker and twice by people trying to sell me some drugs.
Most of them knew that I had just come home. So they knew I had a little money and they were going to make things ‘easier’ for me. I didn’t have to go
anywhere. But that was a heck of a walk as far as turning people down goes. They asked me what I needed and I told them ‘I need some more Jesus. Do you
have any Jesus?’ So they started running. They thought I was crazy. So it worked for me. They knew that when I spoke that way, there was nothing they could
give me. And they didn’t want to hear me because they figured if they stood there long enough, I would try to proselytize them and invite them to accept the
Lord. It worked pretty well.”
Ellis went back to Illinois to stay with his wife for two weeks and as much as he was allowed, but he had to come back to Madison. And when it came time for
Ellis to leave the hotel, he had his mind made up to not stay in transitional housing or a halfway house. So he called a buddy of his who lived in Baraboo and
rented a room from him. “I applied for a place in Madison and they turned me down,” Ellis said. “I thought it was because I had an eviction notice when I first
went to prison because the crime that I committed, the landlord felt it was committed on their property because my name and address came up. So they sent
me an eviction notice. Fortunately, when I did come out, my wife had asked the judge to let me leave out of the building with dignity and they didn’t put an
eviction notice on me. They just asked me to leave. But I didn’t realize that.”
“So when I first tried to get this apartment, they denied me the apartment in Vera Court,” Ellis continued. “The lady who was the manager talked to me for a
while and told me to appeal it. So I appealed the case. And I had a lot of people from Chicago and here who were going to bear witness for me. When the lady,
the owners of the complex, called me, she asked me who else was going to live in the apartment. I told her no one but me. Then she told me that I didn’t need
all of those people coming to talk in my behalf because she wasn’t going to listen to them anyway. She asked me why she should rent me the apartment. I told
her my reasons that I was fresh out of prison, that I was trying to make a new start and I didn’t want to go into a halfway house or transitional living. So after we
talked a little while, she told me she would give me her answer in a few days. In two days, she called me and asked me when I would be ready to move in. But I
didn’t have all of the money. So the apartment wasn’t going to be ready for a month.”
Ellis didn’t have enough money to make the security deposit and the first month’s rent. He got involved in church while he was in Baraboo. “I found a church
there and I got active in that church and I held onto my money,” Ellis said. “The pastor asked me for a testimony. And I gave them my testimony. The next day,
the pastor and another member of the church called me and asked me if I wanted to go to breakfast. I told them yes. At breakfast, they asked me what it would
take for me to get into the apartment. I told them I was short of money. And they asked me if they could give me the money. I said yes. They wanted to help me
out. I had been active. I was participating in the Bible study and doing some service work for them. They were going to help me move, but I told them
everything I had was in a bag. I didn’t have any furniture or anything like that. I had nothing that required any lifting. So they gave me the rest of that money and
then they gave me about $120 over for overhead. So I managed to get into the apartment. When I talked with one of the supervisors in the parole board, they
asked me where I was going to move. I told them I was moving into a two-bedroom apartment. And they were telling me it was hard for a guy to get a one-
bedroom apartment. They asked me what I was going to do in a two-bedroom apartment and I told them I was going to live in it.”
Ellis did whatever work he could to make enough money to pay his rent. He took computer classes through the Urban League of Greater Madison and found
work through DVR. But it seemed the work never lasted and so he also worked as a dishwasher and a day laborer, anything honest to earn the money to keep him
in that apartment and out of a halfway house.
With his wife living in Chicago, Ellis made as many trips as the authorities would allow. So he looked around for a car he could buy. “I ran into a guy who
knew somebody who was a Christian,” Ellis said. “He did body and fender work. And he sold cars. And I had accumulated $400 and I asked the guy if he could
get me a car. He found a 1984 Toyota Camry. He brought that by and it was a little hard to start. I had $400 and he wanted my whole $400. I told him that I had
$400, but I couldn’t give it all to him because it was going to cost me $100 to get the car running. I wasn’t going to buy the car and I couldn’t drive it. And I told
him I needed gas money. So I told him I could only give him $250. So he took that on an agreement with me and I told him I would pay him the rest as soon as
I got it. I would try to give him $25-50 per week. But if I didn’t have it, I would give him what I could. I wasn’t going to give him anything outrageous to get him
the money. So we came to an understanding. He told me that whatever happened to the car, to call him and he would come by and fix it. So I got that car and
the first day I got it, I drove to Illinois. I got permission. I prayed for the car and I prayed for it to run. That car ran until I got a newer one.”
Johnny Ellis has written several books on the difficulties of staying out of prison. On May 17, Ellis will be featured at a book signing at the Rainbow Bookstore,
428 W. Gilman St., starting at 2 p.m.
gauntlet that has tested his desires, his discipline and his faith. One little slip up and Ellis could be headed back to prison.
One thing Ellis had going for him was his determination to get out of jail for good. “I started planning the day they put me on the bus to take me to prison for
what I was going to do when I came home,” Ellis said in an interview over coffee. “I knew the jig was up. There wasn’t any paying of bonds; there weren’t any
furloughs. I was going to do that time. And then the ‘truth-in-sentencing’ had taken effect, so there wasn’t any early parole. I knew I wasn’t going to get out on
parole. The parole board wasn’t letting anyone out.”
When Ellis was released, he had $440 in his pocket and lived in a hotel for most of the first 30 days that he was out, compliments of the state of Wisconsin.
But Ellis had been placed in a hotel near some influences that could drag him right back to prison. “When I came home, they put me in the Expo Hotel,” Ellis
said. “They wouldn’t let me have anyone in and they wouldn’t let me make phone calls. As soon as the guy got me situated, he left me and said ‘You’re on your
own.’ And as soon as he left, someone knocked on the door trying to get in. It was a female, but I didn’t open the door. And the next day, I went to call my wife. I
had to walk through the Expo Hotel to the Villager Mall. I got solicited about three times, once by a hooker and twice by people trying to sell me some drugs.
Most of them knew that I had just come home. So they knew I had a little money and they were going to make things ‘easier’ for me. I didn’t have to go
anywhere. But that was a heck of a walk as far as turning people down goes. They asked me what I needed and I told them ‘I need some more Jesus. Do you
have any Jesus?’ So they started running. They thought I was crazy. So it worked for me. They knew that when I spoke that way, there was nothing they could
give me. And they didn’t want to hear me because they figured if they stood there long enough, I would try to proselytize them and invite them to accept the
Lord. It worked pretty well.”
Ellis went back to Illinois to stay with his wife for two weeks and as much as he was allowed, but he had to come back to Madison. And when it came time for
Ellis to leave the hotel, he had his mind made up to not stay in transitional housing or a halfway house. So he called a buddy of his who lived in Baraboo and
rented a room from him. “I applied for a place in Madison and they turned me down,” Ellis said. “I thought it was because I had an eviction notice when I first
went to prison because the crime that I committed, the landlord felt it was committed on their property because my name and address came up. So they sent
me an eviction notice. Fortunately, when I did come out, my wife had asked the judge to let me leave out of the building with dignity and they didn’t put an
eviction notice on me. They just asked me to leave. But I didn’t realize that.”
“So when I first tried to get this apartment, they denied me the apartment in Vera Court,” Ellis continued. “The lady who was the manager talked to me for a
while and told me to appeal it. So I appealed the case. And I had a lot of people from Chicago and here who were going to bear witness for me. When the lady,
the owners of the complex, called me, she asked me who else was going to live in the apartment. I told her no one but me. Then she told me that I didn’t need
all of those people coming to talk in my behalf because she wasn’t going to listen to them anyway. She asked me why she should rent me the apartment. I told
her my reasons that I was fresh out of prison, that I was trying to make a new start and I didn’t want to go into a halfway house or transitional living. So after we
talked a little while, she told me she would give me her answer in a few days. In two days, she called me and asked me when I would be ready to move in. But I
didn’t have all of the money. So the apartment wasn’t going to be ready for a month.”
Ellis didn’t have enough money to make the security deposit and the first month’s rent. He got involved in church while he was in Baraboo. “I found a church
there and I got active in that church and I held onto my money,” Ellis said. “The pastor asked me for a testimony. And I gave them my testimony. The next day,
the pastor and another member of the church called me and asked me if I wanted to go to breakfast. I told them yes. At breakfast, they asked me what it would
take for me to get into the apartment. I told them I was short of money. And they asked me if they could give me the money. I said yes. They wanted to help me
out. I had been active. I was participating in the Bible study and doing some service work for them. They were going to help me move, but I told them
everything I had was in a bag. I didn’t have any furniture or anything like that. I had nothing that required any lifting. So they gave me the rest of that money and
then they gave me about $120 over for overhead. So I managed to get into the apartment. When I talked with one of the supervisors in the parole board, they
asked me where I was going to move. I told them I was moving into a two-bedroom apartment. And they were telling me it was hard for a guy to get a one-
bedroom apartment. They asked me what I was going to do in a two-bedroom apartment and I told them I was going to live in it.”
Ellis did whatever work he could to make enough money to pay his rent. He took computer classes through the Urban League of Greater Madison and found
work through DVR. But it seemed the work never lasted and so he also worked as a dishwasher and a day laborer, anything honest to earn the money to keep him
in that apartment and out of a halfway house.
With his wife living in Chicago, Ellis made as many trips as the authorities would allow. So he looked around for a car he could buy. “I ran into a guy who
knew somebody who was a Christian,” Ellis said. “He did body and fender work. And he sold cars. And I had accumulated $400 and I asked the guy if he could
get me a car. He found a 1984 Toyota Camry. He brought that by and it was a little hard to start. I had $400 and he wanted my whole $400. I told him that I had
$400, but I couldn’t give it all to him because it was going to cost me $100 to get the car running. I wasn’t going to buy the car and I couldn’t drive it. And I told
him I needed gas money. So I told him I could only give him $250. So he took that on an agreement with me and I told him I would pay him the rest as soon as
I got it. I would try to give him $25-50 per week. But if I didn’t have it, I would give him what I could. I wasn’t going to give him anything outrageous to get him
the money. So we came to an understanding. He told me that whatever happened to the car, to call him and he would come by and fix it. So I got that car and
the first day I got it, I drove to Illinois. I got permission. I prayed for the car and I prayed for it to run. That car ran until I got a newer one.”
Johnny Ellis has written several books on the difficulties of staying out of prison. On May 17, Ellis will be featured at a book signing at the Rainbow Bookstore,
428 W. Gilman St., starting at 2 p.m.
By Jonathan Gramling
Part 3 of 4
Last December, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in a case that Federal judges could hand down lighter
sentences for convictions concerning crack cocaine than federal sentencing guidelines specify. The
Court handed down the ruling, in large part, because of the wide disparity in length of sentence for
powder and crack cocaine. 80 percent of those sentenced for crack cocaine are African American,
while Euro-Americans and Latinos tend to prefer powder cocaine.
The sentencing disparity between crack and powder cocaine is just one of the straws that contribute
to the disproportionate number of African Americans, particularly young men, who are imprisoned in the
state of Wisconsin. In fact, Wisconsin has the second largest disproportionate rate of confining African
American men in the country.
Johnny Ellis (left) was on the wrong side of the law for most of his life. He used over 30 aliases during
his criminal career and for all he knows, there could be some charges pending for an alias he has
forgotten about. But the last time he went to prison in 1999, Ellis resolved that he would never go back.
He’s made a change in his life and has played it straight for the last 4-5 years since he was released from
prison.
Part 3 of 4
Last December, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in a case that Federal judges could hand down lighter
sentences for convictions concerning crack cocaine than federal sentencing guidelines specify. The
Court handed down the ruling, in large part, because of the wide disparity in length of sentence for
powder and crack cocaine. 80 percent of those sentenced for crack cocaine are African American,
while Euro-Americans and Latinos tend to prefer powder cocaine.
The sentencing disparity between crack and powder cocaine is just one of the straws that contribute
to the disproportionate number of African Americans, particularly young men, who are imprisoned in the
state of Wisconsin. In fact, Wisconsin has the second largest disproportionate rate of confining African
American men in the country.
Johnny Ellis (left) was on the wrong side of the law for most of his life. He used over 30 aliases during
his criminal career and for all he knows, there could be some charges pending for an alias he has
forgotten about. But the last time he went to prison in 1999, Ellis resolved that he would never go back.
He’s made a change in his life and has played it straight for the last 4-5 years since he was released from
prison.
Johnny Ellis faced a lot of obstacles when trying to
start a new life after leaving prison.
start a new life after leaving prison.